A series of undocumented events
by SirShriek
Summary: Silly one-shots of things that happen to the hero and their companions when they're not saving Thadas and think no-one is looking.
1. Nothing to do today

**Events that are better left undocumented  
><span>**

Obvious stuff is obvious, I own nothing, except perhaps the scenario maybe.

* * *

><p>"Quite a view up here." The Inquisitor said with a hint of mock wonder "I can see into my room. Hey, who let the nugs out?" He was perched upon The Iron Bull's battle hardened shoulders.<p>

The two of them had been charging around Skyhold's courtyard 'Perfecting a new fighting style' Bull would grin when questioned, if you were willing or crazy enough yourself to approach such madness. Lavellen was looking heroic with a medium sized cooking pot on his head, the one used to make stews in when out in the field, and an impromptu lance in the form of a mage staff with a sharp metal point on the end and some kind of shiny green gem that matched his eyes on the other. He had managed to skewer two training dummies on it and was aiming for a third, that happened to be the one Cassandra was using. The sight of their boss charging towards them lopping the heads of dummies sent the training Charger mercenaries scattering. The Inquisitor narrowly missed a surprised Cassandra and piked the dummy trough the head lifting it up away. Suffice to say she was not happy at being interrupted or having most of the training equipment destroyed for amusement and conveyed that displeasure though the medium of heated words punctuated with flailing arms in angry jerking motions.

Bull slowed to a stop to catch his breath leaning on his pole-axe, as Dorian had appeared from the tavern to investigate Cassandra's angry yelling, leaving his cards unattended, no doubt Sera will peek at them, and Varric tagging along in the hopes of finding a good story.

"This is not what I thought of when you were yelling 'I'm riding the bull!' " Dorian commented, twirling the end of his evil Tivinter mustache.

Varric doubled over in a sudden outburst of spluttering laughter.

As you could guess, it was turning out to be a slow day. A sunny, there-is-hole-still-in-the-sky-but-we-can't-deal-with-it-now-anyway, slow, boring dull day. Surprisingly there was no crisis to deal with, no meetings, no dragons and no nobles' arse to kiss or kick.

The mage staff-turned-lance was was quite heavy, having acquired three unwilling passengers so the Inquisitor unceremoniously dropped it four feet to the ground. Only for it end up propped up like the two dummy's were murdering the third. Straw stuffing strewn everywhere.

Out of curiosity Lavellen tapped his nail on one of Bull's horns and was rewarded with a dull thunk sound. Solid. Somehow he had expected them to be at least partially hollow. He wondered how Bull could keep his head up with the weight of them. He could rest his chin on his chest, he was tall enough to be always looking down anyway, so one would notice.

"I have an idea. Varric? You wouldn't happen to have a spare bow sting do you?" The Inquisitor asked innocently.

After rummaging around in his pockets the dwarf found two and handed one to the Qunari who passed it up to his elven passenger.

"What-? What are you doing up there Boss?" Bull asked suspiciously, feeling a gentle but persistent tugging on his horns. The elven rouge had deftly tied the bowstring to both protruding, supposedly bone, appendages and made a kind of crude slingshot-bow-thing.

Varric, catching on to the Inquisitor's mischief, tossed up one of Bianca's bolts. The Inquisitor casually plucked it out of the air as if he had all the time in the world.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Solas had silently snuck up upon the merry band of whatever you call four people messing around.

"Wise? Probably not. But with an archer, artifacer, warrior, and now two mages, what could go wrong that we couldn't deal with?" Lavellen murmured somewhat dismissively, inspecting the crossbow bolt and smoothing the fletching with a thumb. Bull's horns were much stronger, sturdier and not mention bigger, than a conventional bow or crossbow and theoretically could take more strain and launch a projectile further and with greater impact.

With a resigned sigh Solas said with a similar tone a mother uses when resigned to the fate that her child will to do that thing that she said not to and knows it will only end in tears and a skinned elbow "I'll find a healer." and slunk off before anyone even had a vague notion to object.

Aligning the bolt with Bulls brow, Lavellen leaned back as far as he dared, drawing the bowstring.

Iron Bull had been strangely quiet and still, probably waiting for whatever was about to happen to happen and then find out just how far he could throw a crazy elf. Turns out it's further than the bolt went.

The bolt flew majestically for seven paces before nose-diving into the dirt.

Varric sauntered over to the bolt, almost exactly upright in the dirt, and swaggered back to the group twirling it in one hand. "Well that was disappointing."

"Maybe an arrow? It is lighter." The Inquisitor suggested.

"Might break. Worth a shot though." Varric inwardly smiled at the pun.

An arrow was found and the process was repeated with much better results. Arrow loaded and ready. The Inquisitor let the string slip from his grasp. The arrow sailed though the air like a bird and hit the wall with the same sound a bird would have made, a sharp crack. The arrow's shaft had shattered with the sheer force of the impact. On closer inspection the arrow head had survived and buried itself between the keeps bricks.

"Damn." Lavellen said quietly.

And thus ends the tale of the Quani-pult or Qunari long bow. No one's thought of a good name so far.


	2. The terrible Gryphon of Table Mountain

**It can sometimes get a little dull when left behind at Skyhold, or when the **

**Inquisitor is in meeting's all day and you just can't drink anymore beer otherwise you'll be useless for weeks.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>It was a warm summer's evening and Blackwall was in his stable room, admiring his newest carving he had just completed. It was a small statue no bigger than his open hand, of an elf. It was dressed in mercenary garb and even had a little war bow made from sticks and twine.<p>

His collection had started with a Gryphon, which proudly stood atop the table, and, as a challenge to himself, now included several of the Inquisitors mounts, Horse, Heart, Dracolisk and even a Giant nug. Each with little saddles and bridles.

He sat cross-legged on the straw covered floor and reached under the table for wooden box, packed with yet more straw. Nestled in the straw was other similar sized carvings. He carefully took them out one by one and stood them in a line beside him.

There was a muscular Qunari made of a stray birch log he found in with the firewood.

A Mabari, his personal favorite, posed in a fierce snarl and another laid down peacefully asleep.

A human man and lady dressed in robes, complete with staff's tipped with a shard of colored glass**.  
><strong>

Two other human ladies, one in a frilly dress that had taken hours to carve each ruffle, and one in basic square armor and a third in a hood and cloak.

A dwarf that could sit on the fierce Mabari's back and not fall off, and also stand on its own, if somewhat oddly.

Two elves, a lady with short hair and a man with a smooth, almost perfectly round bald head.

A slightly smaller human man with a floppy straw woven hat**.**

A Templar Knight with feathered paldrouns, if viewed from the side it kind of looked like an abomination hunched over.

A Human man with a glorious beard and a small collection of weapons and shields.

He had debated on painting his creations but decided to leave them as plain worked wood, mostly because he couldn't decide what color do paint most of the cloths.

"What will the story be this time?" Blackwall mused to himself.

He picked up his newest addition. "You can't always save the day, can you?" He put the mercenary elf on the table then the box upturned over it.

Thus began the tale of **The terrible Gryphon of Table Mountain.**

"The Gryphon's got him! It flew up there!" The Dwarf exclaimed.

"But there's all these baddies in the way." Baldy elf pointed out.

"Oh no!" Squeaked the lady in the ruffeled dress.

"But not for long!" Growled the Human Man Mage.

"Die!" Roared the Templar charging forward.

A full blown battle against straw stuffed sock abominations was imminent. With a muffled war cry he made the dwarf stab a spear into the sock monster and the angry mabari finish it off.

Five vanquished sock deamons later, the others having running off in fear, the group of wooden hero's faced the maze of despair.

_What a rubbish name_. The Grey Warden thought to himself, but he couldn't think of a better one at the time.

The maze of doom? Was constructed of the few books he owned, propped up on the pages, spines in the air, like little tents.

"We could just walk around it."

"Or go though."

"Looks easy enough."

The companions entered the maze of doom with trepidation, the hound leading the way with its superior sense of smell.

Pressure plates activated by an unwary foot split the group. Only the human Robe Man and GloryBeard made it out the maze of doom safely. The others momentarily forgotten, trapped. _Rescue them later in another story perhaps._

Having gotten tired of waiting the mercenary elf had picked the lock on his box cage, slain the gryphon and used it's intestines to repel down from the table mountain.

"I thought I'd lost you!"

RobeMan and Mercenary Elf smooshed their smooth, featureless faces together. Making kissing noises.

"So that's what we do." Dorian said leaning against doorway, recognizing the wooden figures robes as one his own innumerable robes and the statuette of the Inquisitor.

Blackwall jumped at the sudden intrusion.

"Dolls? I thought so." Varric said.

"Brings a new definition to 'playing with yourself.'" Dorian chuckled.

With a huge grin the archer and mage bumped fists at the sight of the Grey Warden's rapidly reddening, embarrassed face.


	3. Two taloned beast

**Two Grey Warden's, a Circle Enchanter and an Ex-Warrior Caste surface dwarf all walk into the Deep Roads...**

* * *

><p>What is that noise?<p>

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A slow, repeating rhythm of clicks. Alistair strained his eyes against the ever darkening gloom. He could see almost nothing, the pale glow of Wynne's staff in front of him reflected off of The Warden's silverlite armor in front of her. He could hear the heavy, ale scented breathing of the dwarf in the lead, and again that clicking.

The clicking of eight talons on eight long legs tapping against the stone tunnel walls. Red eyes burning, poison soaked fangs mere inches from the back of his neck. Two spindly talons reaching down, agonizingly slowly, to scoop him up in one fell swoop and whisk him away never to be seen again. His bones lying forgotten in the darkness never to be laid to rest.

That's what he thought of of the mysterious clicking sound. No-one else seemed to hear it. Only him. Poor Alistair, one of the two surviving Grey Wardens to be eaten by giant spiders whilst traipsing around the Deep Roads. Insides liquified into a syrupy spider delicacy. The skin between his shoulder blades started to crawl uncomfortably.

"Wynne? Wynne?" He said in hushed tones.

"Yes?"

"Do you hear that?"

They both stopped for a moment and listened.

"No?"

"Never mind then."

They quickly caught up to the others with a fast walk. After a moment of silence, the clicking resumed.

"Alistair?" Wynne said.

"Hm?"

"Could you not tread on that?"

"Not tread on what?"

"My wool."

"Pardon?"

"It's what you get from sheep."

"Your knitting? Down here? Wait, how can you even see what your doing?"

"I have it down to a fine art dear. I can feel what I'm doing. You've just undone all my work since Caridin's Cross." She said sadly.

Instead of being devoured by subterranean arachnids, Alistair now in fear being stabbed to death by an old lady with knitting needles.


	4. TheCuriousConverganceOfCrainialCoverings

**Inquisitor Adaar has too many hats.**

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Adaar had never had any need for a hat, mostly because her magnificent horns got in the way. Yet she still collected them. Dozens of them. Abandoned by careless, drunken nobles at parties, liberated by dexterous fingers, looted from foes and even one found inside a high dragon. One guess as to how it got there, Maker knows how it managed to remain in one piece.<p>

Vivienne had already stolen away all the so called 'fashionable ones'. The Inquisitor had let her, those hats were not fashionable, just plain silly, the epitome of ridiculousness. Why would you want a hat with_ that _on it? _That_ resembling the unmentionables of an unfortunate creature, decorated with delicate colored glass cut like precious gems.

"Sera?" The Inquisitor asked, cautiously stepping into the elf's room, it was cluttered almost to the ceiling with presumably stolen stuff. Sorry, borrowed with no intentions of giving it back.

"What?" Sera replied already bored with the conversation.

"What could we do, if we had, say, a hundred hats?" The door frame creaked under the wight of the Qunari.

Sera thought for a moment, her brow creasing slightly under her rough cut hair. A moment passed.

"How am I supposed to know what to do with the stupid things?" Sera finally growled in frustration of not being able to come up with an idea for a prank.

"Put them on everything?" Adaar suggested.

"It's something to do, I guess."

Sera bounced away with a curious Qunari following in her wake. Adaar usually had no problems with the elf-of-questionable-sanity's pranks, still she prepared herself for a terrible idea or something to go horrendously wrong. She also started to think of a suitable explanation as to why the Inquisitor of a respected organization was doing whatever it was they were dong.

The two of them snuck into Blackwall's quarters beside the stables. A pink frilly Orleision bonnet appeared upon Blackwall's Gryphon carving.

Every mount within the stables acquired various head wear. The Dracolisk's objected the most, stamping their strange feet, they quietened down once they realized the hat's weren't coming off, resigned to their fate they just huffed moodily. The giant nugs seemed to quite like them. The horses didn't care at all and the Hearts were turned into proud living hat-stands. Dennet was very dismayed at that when he arrived the following morning.

The ugliest hat they could find they put on a tree in plain view of Vivienne's balcony, but out of her and her staff's reach.

They slipped a knitted tea cosy, though not technically a hat and decorated with pom-poms of outrageous colors, upon the sleeping Sola's shiny cranium. One pointed ear sticking out of the knitted spout.

The Iron bull acquired three hats. One on each majestic horn and another balanced across the two.

The people of Skyhold awoke in the morning with in various states of confusion, bewilderment and annoyance at the sudden sprouting of cranial coverings.

The Hat Uprising, The battle of the bewildered bonnets, this event would come to acquire many names, some admittedly better then others.

Upon waking to the beautiful sounds of birds singing their morning symphony and the warm sunshine upon her face, Vivienne wandered onto her little balcony. The sight she saw sent shivers of revulsion though her and almost made her puke on the spot. The withered tree that grew from the wall beside her balcony had grown the most awful decoration. She went back into her room and thrust the stained glass doors closed. It didn't help, she could still see it's ghastly silhouette.

The simple knowledge that such a thing could exist, let alone be perched like some hideous bird of death, in plain view of her humble abode, made her seethe with suppressed rage at such a nigh-on blasphemous act.

Throwing open the doors once more Vivienne reached for the offending garment, alas it was too far. She retrieved her staff and tried again. Just a little further.

And that's how the ambassadors never showed to their meeting with the Inquisitor, not did the Inquisitor herself. Because they had laughed themselves into a near death state at the sight of the Imperial Enchanter suspended from her undergarments in a mega wedgie.

How _scandalous._

* * *

><p>Let me know if there is anything silly thing you would like to read about. I'll give it a whirl at writing it. <em><br>_


End file.
